Kissing the Rake (Howertys #2)

Chapter 21: Conversations

"Have you booked the church?"

Pensington looked up at Jacob from his papers where he sat behind his desk. "So you're here."

"I just arrived," he confirmed as he sat down in a chair and lit a cheroot. "Why did I find her with that dolt Ravenscroft?"

"They're friends." His friend shrugged. "I saw no harm in them going for a ride. Surely you're not jealous?" he added with an amused look in his direction.

He shrugged even while he suspected his friend was correct. Not wanting to consider the possibility, he made up some absurd excuse for caring. "I just don't like my future wife spending time with other men. It reflects badly on me."

"That you ruined her reflects badly on you," Pensington muttered.

"No one needs to know that." He straightened in the chair and met his friend's eyes. "I am marrying her and the baby could be born early. I don't want any gossip relating to this."

"There will inevitably be some gossip after a hasty wedding," Pensington pointed out calmly. "But I think it will be limited since you've both been mostly in the country. For all the ton knows, you could have been courting her here and married swiftly because you were madly in love."

He chuckled. "Do you really think the ton would believe I was madly in love?"

Pensington shrugged. "Stranger things have happened."

"What about the church?" he asked again, not wanting to delve further into the topic of love.

"Did you procure the special license?"

Putting his hand inside his coat, he retrieved a folded note and tossed it onto the desk. Pensington didn't bother picking it up or look at it, he only nodded. "You can be married this Sunday in Bridlewood. I already spoke to the vicar."

"Very well. I shall stay at the Inn in Bridlewood until then."

Pensington sighed. "You don't have to do that. I may not be pleased with you, but you are still my friend. Davenhall will always have a room available for you." Before Jacob could reply, he added sternly, "Not Jessica's room. Not until you're married."

He chuckled. "I would not suggest it."

"Good," his friend muttered, and after a moment's silence, he gave him a probing look. "Will you tell your father?"

"I suppose I shall have to." He sighed and stood. "I was planning to ride there now. It's better to have it over and done with. I should be back in time for supper."

"Good luck," Pensington called after him as he left, and he was certain he heard a trace of amusement in his friend's voice.

As he rode across the estates towards Holcombe Hall, he wondered which emotion would be prevalent when he told his father. The smugness that he was finally getting married, or the irritation that he was marrying the same woman his father had planned to woo for himself. He knew fully that part of his reason for not wanting to get married was very childish. He simply did not wish to please his father, who had been trying to make him marry since he turned twenty. At some point in his life, he had become somewhat obsessed with not pleasing his father, and he seemed unable to break the habit.

When he arrived at Holcombe, the butler pointed him towards the study when he asked for the duke. Bracing himself, he walked into the spacious room to find his father sitting in a comfortable chair with a book in his lap. The duke looked up when he entered and gave him a surprised look.

"Jacob," he said and closed the book. "I did not expect you back so soon."

"Neither did I," he admitted as he sat down on a chair opposite his father.

They sat quietly for a moment, looking at each other, and he wished he could get rid of the frustration and irritability that always seemed to surface whenever he was close to his father. It had always been like this, for as long as he could remember, and he barely even knew why anymore. Of course, there were certain issues they had never seen eye to eye on, and they had that big falling out a few years ago, but the feelings of resentment and anger had always been there.

"So," the duke finally said when he said nothing. "What brings you here this time?"

"I'm getting married."

The statement seemed to surprise the older man as he didn't speak at first. Then he slowly put the book away on a table and gave him a mildly questioning look. "May I ask to whom?"

"Jessica Howerty."

"Very well," his father said simply. Not the reaction he had been expecting. "An excellent choice, I must say."

He frowned. "Are you not upset?"

His father raised a dark eyebrow. "Should I be?"

Standing up and pacing the room, he threw his father an annoyed look. "I thought you were planning to court her yourself."

"Lady Jessica?" The duke smiled slightly. "Hardly. She is much too young for me."

Jacob halted, staring at his father. "But... Your letter! It said that you were planning to marry Jessica and that you'd invited her to Holcombe."

The duke shook his head. "No, it said that I was planning to court our lovely neighbour, and that I had invited Lady Jessica to Holcombe. Two separate matters."

"So you never intended to court Jessica?" He was dumbfounded.

"Good lord, no." The duke gave him an unreadable look. "I am glad you did, though. I always thought she would be perfect for you."

He scowled. "You did this on purpose!" he burst out angrily. "You wrote that letter and made it sound like you were planning to marry Jessica intentionally, hoping it would bring me here to stop it."

"Well, it worked, didn't it?"

"Bloody hell!" he cursed. "You set this whole thing up."

"Is it such a bad thing, then?"

"How did you know I would end up marrying her?" he asked, ignoring the question.

"I didn't," his father admitted. "But I have always hoped the two of you would find each other. I thought that perhaps with a nudge in the right direction..."

"Bloody hell!" he burst out again, giving his father a wild look. "Have you any idea what you have done? How could you put an innocent woman in my path? You know what kind of man I am."

"Yes," his father said, quite serious now. "Your exploits in London always reach me, as I'm sure you intend them to. But I do know what kind of man you are, and I know you would not dishonour a woman like Lady Jessica."

"High praise from you," he said bitterly. "Your tune sounded quite different the last time. And for your information, I ruined her."

His father didn't seem too surprised by the news of Jessica's ruination. In fact, he didn't even bat an eyelid. Not at all like the previous time they had argued about a woman that Jacob supposedly ruined. Instead, he calmly repeated his earlier question. "And is marrying Lady Jessica really such a bad thing?"

Again, he ignored it. Turning on his heel he walked towards the door, throwing over his shoulder, "Don't bother coming to the wedding."

He couldn't be sure, it was probably the trick of the dim afternoon light in the study, but he could have sworn he saw the older man's shoulders sagging and his head drooping dejectedly just before he slammed the door behind him.

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